


Bite hard

by Hangmans_Radio



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vampires, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hangmans_Radio/pseuds/Hangmans_Radio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson does not have a vampire fetish. The problem lies in that Sherlock makes anything sexy and John just hasn't got laid in far too long. Of course he can only keep his sexual fantasies from Sherlock for so long...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite hard

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first story I've ever put on this site, and my first ever Sherlock fic too so I'm a bit nervous! I'm still figuring out how to navigate this thing so if there's any obvious mistakes on that part please let me know. I also didn't have time to get my BETA to scan this so any mistakes are entirely my own and I apologise in advance.

_“Sherlock...” John’s voice was embarrassingly husky, not to mention breathy and strained. His cheeks flushed red from the humiliation, his eyes squeezing shut so he wouldn’t have to see the smug look on his lovers face._

_“Yes, my John?” Sherlock purred, his long fingers sliding John’s undershirt up his torso so that he could gaze down at his tanned skin. His thumbs swept up along John’s ribs, his fingers stretching up to circle around two, hardened nipples. “What is it, love?”_

_“I... Please...” John gasped, fully intoxicated by the creature leaning over him. Sherlock was so tall, so incredibly mysterious. Even in nothing but a simple pair of black trousers and loose white gypsy shirt he could pull off his usual dominant persona, and when he leant so close that John could feel his breath on his skin his cock twitched with need._

_“Please what?” Sherlock smirked, those long fingers starting to rub and tug gently over John’s nipples. John was starting to pant now, his skin growing tacky with sweat and he groaned as he yanked his shirt over his own head and tossed it aside. The lighting in the room was dim, some of the candles having burnt out but there were three or four still going strong._

_How long had they been cooped up in here, just the two of them? John couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember ever feeling scared, though he was sure he had been at first. He was also sure there was more furniture in here than the bed he was lying on, but it was all he could remember now. It was just he, Sherlock and the bed. Even the candles were falling out of his conscious thoughts... Everything was falling out of his conscious thoughts. It was all Sherlock... Only Sherlock._

_“Please don’t... Don’t bite me...” He breathed, though his words came out uncertain and lacked conviction. He had been so desperate to get Sherlock to promise not to feed off him... but now he was just desperate for him to touch him. God, he could take all the blood he wanted so long as he let John cum too._

_“Mm... I have to feed John...” Sherlock’s voice was a soft, dark purr. Full of dangerous promise and so seductive that John felt a strong tug in his balls. He spread his legs like a wanton whore, arching his back and lifting his hips in the hopes Sherlock would touch him, but the vampire was not so easily distracted._

_“It has been too long...” Sherlock whispered, his lips brushing against John’s jaw now, one hand moving away from the rosy nipple it was caressing and drifting down to tease around John’s midriff. “I have fed on nothing but criminals and vagabonds for years John... Oh, how good it would feel to drink from your throat.” He groaned, and when he pushed his hips down John was amazed to feel an erection straining in the trousers._

_“God...” He gasped, his breathing heavy and he shakily lifted a hand to rest against Sherlock’s lower back. “I... You’ll hurt me...”_

_“No John, never...” Sherlock purred, his voice so soft and tempting, coaxing John into agreeing before he could really understand what he was doing. “I will take such a small amount...” Sherlock promised, his lips smoothing across John’s jaw to kiss delicately against the side of his neck. “It will feel amazing... Oh, I promise you that...”_

_“Oh...” John groaned, arching his back and tilting his head to the side from instinct. Sherlock’s voice was deep and seductive, such a voice could only belong to angels. But Sherlock was no angel... and yet John worshipped him. “Yes...” He hissed as Sherlock’s hand drifted across the bulge in his trousers, squeezing firmly._

_“I can make you cum John...” Sherlock smirked, nibbling John’s neck delicately and delighting in the shiver that ran through him. His cock was hot and hard against his palm, even through the fabric of his clothes, and he could feel each pulse that ran through it at his words. “I can make you cum from my teeth in your neck alone... I won’t even have to touch you. I’ll be feeding from you... Drinking your blood and you’ll love every second of it. You’ll beg for it.” His voice had become a growl now, his own pleasure climbing as he imagined it._

_God he was so thirsty._

_“God, Sherlock...” John groaned, his head spinning and he knew that Sherlock was being honest. John felt like he could cum already let alone when he was being drained of his blood. He trusted Sherlock, as crazy as that seemed, and he was so taken over by pleasure he simply couldn’t feel afraid anymore. “Please Sherlock I... I need... I need you...”_

_“Of course you do...” Sherlock smirked, kissing with more definition against John’s neck now. He began adding tiny bites and licks, feeling over the skin and hunting for the perfect spot. The hand still on John’s nipple moved to fist into his hair, pulling his head firmly to the side so that the skin on his neck grew taunt beneath his lips. “I’m going to feed from you now...”_

_“Yes...” John hissed, no longer caring. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest and his cock was so hard it hurt. He didn’t care what Sherlock was planning to do anymore, he wanted it. He wanted it all._

_“You will be mine...” Sherlock growled, his fangs lengthening and John could feel the two sharpened points scratching lightly against his skin. When he gulped his tendons tightened. “And once you are mine... I will fuck you.”_

_“Sherlock...” The moan that fell from John’s lips was positively obscene but he barely even noticed. “Sherlock, please!”_

_Sherlock wasted no more time with pretty words and dark promises. He tightened his grip on John’s hair, pulling his head even more to the side to expose as much of his neck as he could before sinking his fangs into his skin. He kept slow... Dragging out every second so that John choked on the moan he was releasing and then gasped sharply before Sherlock’s fangs were even completely into his flesh._

_“God!” John gasped, moaning loudly but having no time to feel embarrassed about it before Sherlock was sucking against the puncture wounds and drawing the blood from his neck._

_John’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his mouth fell open; Sherlock’s eyes were wide open, watching him intently as they swirled a myriad of colours and he gulped hungrily at the hot blood that bubbled up into his mouth. The hand not holding Johns hair was still pressed against his erection, though he didn’t move it at all. He didn’t need to... John was grinding his hips up against his palm, gasping and panting out breathy moans as Sherlock drank from his neck._

_John’s mind was in a tailspin as he unravelled under Sherlock’s touch. He could feel his blood rising to the surface where Sherlock sucked against his skin, hot and wet whenever it spilt before getting lapped up by a talented tongue. When Sherlock eventually broke with a gasp the only blood left were the two fine trickles that bled from the puncture wounds, and they too were soon licked up as Sherlock went back to his feasting._

_“Fuck... Fuck...” John’s voice was growing more and more strained, his words slurring as he grew woozy. He wasnt sure whether it was from arousal or a lack of blood, but he felt as if he was floating and yet unbelievably heavy at the same time. Sherlock’s strong hands were anchoring him to the bed, the pleasurable ache in his erection spreading to each of his muscles as he writhed against Sherlock’s hand. He was unbelievably turned on, and so... so dizzy._

_Sherlock’s sucking was starting to grow gentler, his gulps further apart as he slowed down. He was drawing the blood up slowly now, feeling sated as far as his thirst went though the extra blood had made his cock even harder and he was starting to rub the bulge in his trousers against John’s leg. The doctor didn’t even seem to notice._

_John was beyond himself with pleasure, the feeling of Sherlock sucking the blood from his neck shouldn’t have felt so good but it did. His cock was throbbing with the force of it, and he was starting to roll his hips upwards with more insistence._

_Sherlock released a husky moan and cupped his hand around John’s erection, drawing his fangs out of his neck as he rubbed him through his clothes, feeling him throb and pulse, hips bucking, breath catching, balls tightening and then -_

“O – Oh...” John sighed and shuddered as he woke up, his body still quivering from the aftershocks of his orgasm. For a moment he was utterly disorientated, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled out of the dregs of sleep and looked about blearily. 

It didn’t take John long to realise what had happened, though he couldn’t quite believe it. He grimaced and awkwardly slid round to sit on the edge of the bed, hunching over his knees and rubbing his hands over his eyes. He felt exhausted, which wasn’t exactly surprising considering he’d been chasing Sherlock all over London for the past week as they solved a case. They hadn’t even gone to bed early last night... Instead they’d ordered in Chinese – Sherlock hadn’t eaten in three days – and watched some old crappy vampire film that had been on TV.

John supposed the vampire film could be blamed for his rather vivid dream... His cheeks flamed red as he glanced down at his crotch, frowning at the sticky wet patch on his boxer briefs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a wet dream... Not since he was a teenager at least. He’d woken up with an erection plenty of times, what man didn’t? But it had been a long time since a dream had been enough to tip him into climax. Let alone a dream about Sherlock... And... Vampires.

John did not put himself down as the kind of person who had a particular fetish for that kind of thing. Blood and fangs and all that sort of nonsense just didn’t do it for him as a general rule. But the mess in his underwear screamed differently. Or maybe it was just because it was Sherlock... Sherlock could make anything sexy John decided. It was something he had been suspicious of for some time, but this really did just take the biscuit.

Glancing at the clock John guessed he had just enough time to sneak into the bathroom before Sherlock would wake up. After a long case and countless sleepless nights Sherlock could be known to sleep in sometimes even as late as ten in the morning. John prayed that this was going to be one of those days as he got to his feet and quickly stripped of his underwear. 

The briefs were quickly shoved into the wash basket in the corner of his room, John grabbing his bath robe and tying it tight around him as he tiptoed to his bedroom door and poked his head round it. There was no was sign of Sherlock, but John knew better than to sneak around. No doubt the detective would know somehow and so John just tried to act naturally.

One bad thing about living with someone like Sherlock was that no matter whether he was around or not you couldn’t help but feel like he was constantly watching you. Knew what you were up to... John’s heart was racing erratically as he walked at what he hoped was a normal, sleepy pace to the bathroom. 

Once he’d made it safely through the door, John promptly slid across the lock and flicked on the shower. He hoped the noise of the water would disguise the fact he was now just leaning against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed as he took a deep, calming breath. He couldn’t say he felt all that shaken about the dream... though there had been a time in his life when he would have been. Truth be told the last few weeks he’d been dreaming about Sherlock a lot... Though none of those dreams had ended quite as messily as this one.

John was beginning to suspect that Sherlock could tell he was attracted to him. The guy was a genius after all and John was pretty certain anyone with an IQ higher than five could tell. He was trying to hide it, really he was, but it just wasn’t working. He often found himself staring at Sherlock, either lustily or adoringly, even when he was irritated at him his eyes sparkled with a strange sort of love. Sherlock was just such a lovable idiot... Infuriating yes, suffocating even... But John just couldn’t help himself. He _wanted_ him.

Sighing, John finally stepped into the shower and bowed his head under the warm spray of water. His shoulder was aching, the old war wound giving him a little grief. Sometimes the muscles just seemed to cramp around the scar and he sighed as he the hot water helped to relieve some of the tension. Sherlock would probably tell him it was all psychological, but Sherlock could kiss his ass.

John stayed in the shower for longer than intended, washing himself slowly and just allowing himself to relax. He didn’t want to get out and be unprepared to face Sherlock; no doubt he’d get a grilling. Sherlock was always asking questions. Questions he no doubt already knew the answers to.

John bit back a groan as he shut off the water and finally dragged himself out of the shower. He wrapped a towel round his waist whilst he brushed his teeth but put his robe back on to go out into the living room. He needed a cup of tea, and some sort of food, and then he’d worry about getting some clothes on. He was sort of hoping they wouldn’t get another case for at least a couple days, he felt drained... Sherlock would be bored by afternoon but John had learnt to tune him out.

When John made his way into the living room Sherlock was already in there, sat on the couch with a mug in his hand, legs draped across the arm of the sofa. The belt of his robe was tied only very loosely around his waist, allowing the fabric to gape open so that one shoulder was completely exposed and John could see a rosy nipple peeking out. It was unlike Sherlock not to wear a shirt under it, though he was wearing his pyjama pants.

“I made you a cup of tea.” Sherlock nodded at a mug standing on the coffee table, steam rising from it. “I heard the shower.”

“Thank you.” John took the tea and sank gratefully into his armchair, sighing as he relaxed and sipped from the mug. He glanced over at Sherlock and looked away almost immediately. The detective looked just too good with his robe hanging off him like it was... John had the ridiculous urge to go over there and lick over the nipple he could see, but he didn’t dare imagine how Sherlock would react if he did. 

“Did you sleep well?” John looked over again with a confused frown at Sherlock’s question. The taller man never made small talk; he said it was useless though admittedly fascinating to see how it made up social constructions. Sherlock studied small talk... he didn’t engage in it. John frowned as he wondered whether this was some sort of experiment; if it was he supposed he ought to just go along with it.

“Yes, thank you.” He kept his voice soft, casual. “Did you?” 

“Yes.” Sherlock’s response was short, sharp, and disinterested. John shrugged it off, turning back to his tea. He assumed the conversation was over. 

“Did you dream?”

“Sorry?” John’s cheeks flamed red with guilty knowledge as he turned to look at Sherlock again. He was sure he had the truth written all over his face but he tried not to look so surprised and simply frowned instead. “Did I dream?” He repeated, Sherlock nodding and turning his own head to meet John’s gaze.

“Yes.” 

“I... What? I... Why does it matter?” John could feel his cheeks heating with the intensity of his blush. He knew full well it was giving him away and his heart began to race with nerves. God, it was too early for Sherlock to start picking him apart like this already. 

“No need to get so flustered John; it’s a perfectly innocent question.” Sherlock said softly, though it was clear he wasn’t the least bit surprised by John’s reaction. “Besides, I already know that you did dream. I’m curious to know what... or who... you dreamt about?”

John groaned and ran a hand over his eyes as he put his tea down. He could see where this was going. He wasn’t surprised really; he knew it would only be a matter of time before Sherlock brought up the fact his infatuation with him was glaringly obvious. John could see this oncoming conversation ending in one of two ways... Either Sherlock was going to find it entirely fascinating and use it in some sort of ridiculous experiment. Or he was going to tell John he was flattered but he was not gay nor was he interested in sex at all, or any sort of relationship. 

John sighed and turned to look at Sherlock again, forcing himself to remain as composed as possible as he met the disinterested eyes of the detective. Sherlock looked bored, which would probably explain why he had chosen this moment to have this conversation. They had nothing better to do after all, and John supposed he should feel relieved. At least this way they could get it out into the open... Sherlock could express his disinterest, John could assure him he had never planned to try anything, and they could get over the awkwardness in a day or two and maybe, just maybe, John might get a decent night’s sleep for once without dreaming of Sherlock.

“Alright Sherlock.” John sighed, sitting up straighter and bracing himself. “I already know you know who I dreamt about. There’s no need to make me say it.” John sighed, Sherlock quirking an eyebrow at him. John blinked stupidly when he saw something that could have been amusement flit across Sherlock’s eyes... But no. He must have imagined it.

“You’re right; I do know who you dreamt about. Of course.” Sherlock’s tone was flippant, but his actions spoke louder. He swung his long legs round and jumped off the sofa, putting his tea down as he stepped onto the coffee table and then over it.

“Of course.” John agreed without thinking about it, watching with increasingly widening eyes as Sherlock approached him. “Couldn’t you walk around it Sherlock?” He sighed when he walked over the coffee table. Sherlock ignored the question, which John was grateful for, it had been instinctive.

“I want to hear you say it though.” Sherlock’s low voice was sending sparks up John’s spine and he squirmed a little in his chair as Sherlock suddenly knelt infront of it, his hands on John’s knees. The doctor wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, and for a moment he could do nothing but stare at Sherlock like he’d finally lost the last of his marbles. 

“I... What?”

“Tell me who you dreamt about.” Sherlock scoffed, rolling his eyes at John’s stupidity. John blushed and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He wanted to make some snappy retort but he couldn’t think of one, and he certainly wasn’t about to tell Sherlock about his dream.

“John.” Sherlock’s hands tightened on John’s knees, only marginally so but enough to make John inhale sharply. “Tell me who you dreamt about this morning. Tell me who made you achieve orgasm without a single bit of physical contact.” 

“Jesus Sherlock.” John breathed, his cheeks flaming red by this point. He wanted to push Sherlock’s hands off him and storm out of the room, but he felt pinned to the chair. His hands could do nothing but grip the arms and he swallowed thickly as he tried to rationalise his thoughts. “How could you possible know that I –”

“Oh please John, don’t be _stupid_.” Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes. “Must I explain each of my deductions to you?” He snapped and John realised with a jolt of his stomach that Sherlock was getting frustrated. He looked impatient... more so than usual, and from the clenching of his hands on his knees John made some deductions of his own...

“Alright.” He whispered, his eyes boring into Sherlock’s as his heart raced erratically. He supposed he shouldn’t be nervous... Sherlock knew the answer already. But saying it out loud would make it so final... Still, John Watson was not a cowardly man and he had had to do worse things than confess a crush on someone before.

“Who did you dream about?” Sherlock asked again, his voice softer now, almost a purr and John’s stomach gave an almighty flip as a tug ran through his groin.

“You...” He whispered quietly, his cheeks going impossibly redder as a slow smirk split across Sherlock’s face. God, in that moment he looked too much like he had in John’s dream and he almost expected his fangs to turn into sharpened points. 

“What did I do in your dream?” Sherlock asked smoothly, his hands starting to drift up John’s thighs, rendering the doctor speechless for a second. “It wasn’t like your usual ones... You don’t usually climax whilst you’re dreaming. You always have to masturbate to finish, but you didn’t so much as hump the mattress.”

“I... What!? Were you watching me?” John gasped, Sherlock looking at him with innocent eyes as he began to innocently massage John’s thighs.

“Of course not.” He said as if it should have been obvious, cocking his head to the side. “I could tell from –”

“No!” John interrupted him, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” 

“Alright.” Sherlock chuckled then, _actually_ chuckled and John’s head span at the noise. What was going on here? This was so different to the way he had imagined this would go. Was he dreaming again?

“Sh – Sherlock, what are you doing?” He whispered, Sherlock’s hands still drifting over his naked thighs and causing his blood to start to rush south. 

“What do you think?” Sherlock asked softly, watching John’s face carefully to ensure he didn’t overstep a mark. “I’m engaging you in sexual activity.”

“Oh GOD...” John didn’t know whether to be amused or pissed off. This was so like Sherlock. So _clinical_. “This is an experiment isn’t it?” He groaned, knowing it was ridiculous to feel disappointed but his stomach still sank. “For fuck’s sake Sherlock stop it. Yes, I dreamt about you, we both know I’ve been attracted to you from almost the instant I first saw you... But this is just too far. You can’t just decide that because we don’t have a case on anymore that you’re going to... I don’t know, going to do whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I’m just trying to make you feel good John.” Sherlock said calmly, smirking up at John when the doctor cracked his eyes open to glance down at him. He still hadn’t moved his hands. “I know you assume that I am oblivious to anything sexual but that’s not the case. I have seen the way you look at me... Been aware of your dreaming of me since the moment it started. I think about you when I masturbate too.” 

If John hadn’t been sat down already he would have collapsed. He stared at Sherlock with wide eyes and parted lips, not sure whether to believe him or not. Sherlock wasn’t a liar as far as he was aware but this just seemed too farfetched. 

“I... What? You masturbate?” 

“Of course I do.” Sherlock frowned, fingers dancing along John’s knees and thighs. “I admit it used to be purely as a necessity. As a doctor I’m sure you understand the medical issues that arise when you don’t masturbate. However... Recently I find myself doing it more often... I have been having all sorts of fantasies about you John.” 

“Oh God, this is a dream. It has to be a dream.” John groaned, closing his eyes again. He couldn’t take any of it in. Sherlock was right, he had always assumed he was oblivious to anything sexual; and he definitely had never considered that Sherlock masturbated. The thought made his cock stir, and it was only with a supreme amount of effort that he didn’t just imagine that for a moment. “Sherlock I... God, stop. I need to think for a moment.”

“About what?” Sherlock scoffed, rolling his eyes again. “I know you want me, and I’ve just told you I want you too. What is there to think about?” He asked simply, John staring down at him again and almost moaning when Sherlock’s long fingers slid past his robe and began to dance close to his testicles.

“Sherlock!” He gasped, not sure whether he wanted him to stop or not. “I... We can’t rush into this. We need to t - talk first! I mean... I don’t know what this would even mean to you, and you’re a virgin and –”

“You know, you shouldn’t believe everything Mycroft tells you.” Sherlock scoffed, frowning slightly and just making John blush more. “As much as I appreciate your desire to protect my virtue I can assure you that’s a lost cause. Now do stop complaining John, I’m bored of talking.” 

John opened his mouth to tell Sherlock tough, and that they were going to talk for as long as he liked because damn it he was going to call the shots for a change... but the words died in his throat when Sherlock parted the sides of his robe and promptly took the tip of his half hard cock into his mouth.

“Jesus!” John’s hands instinctively flew down to Sherlock’s hair, gripping tight and tugging. At first he tried to yank Sherlock away, but before he was even aware he was doing it he began pushing down instead. The wet heat of Sherlock’s mouth around the head of his cock was too good to ignore and he released a loud groan as he tipped his head back. He was feeling more dazed than ever, not entirely sure how they had come to be here but he had given up on complaining. Only a fool would complain with Sherlock’s mouth around their dick.

“Sh – Sherlock... Oh God...” John squeezed his eyes shut and loosened his grip slightly on the detectives hair so he didn’t hurt him as a skilled tongue swirled around his tip. Sherlock had definitely done this before... John wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He mostly just couldn’t believe it. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact Sherlock wasn’t a virgin, but it was difficult to think whilst that smart ass mouth was doing such sinfully wonderful things to his growing erection.

Sherlock gazed up at John through his lashes as he worked his tongue around the tip and coronal ridge, taking his time until John was fully erect and achingly hard. He had moved one hand off his thigh to wrap around the base now, steadying the length as he began to bob his head, taking in a little more with each dip down. 

Though he would never admit it Sherlock had been eager to do this for some time now. If he was going to be honest with himself he had wanted John for months. He was the first person to come into his life and stay there so willingly. Though Sherlock could tell he did irritate the doctor to an extent, it was nowhere near as much as he annoyed other people; and what was more John seemed to genuinely enjoy his company for the most part. Sherlock had never been around anyone who actually seemed to _like_ him, and when it started to become clear John had sexual inclinations towards him his own body had responded eagerly.

Sherlock was a man of science, and he would never entertain such silly notions as fate or destiny... But a small part of him did wonder that maybe he and John were simply meant to be.

John was starting to believe maybe his cock and Sherlock’s mouth were simply meant to be as he groaned and tried his hardest not to buck his hips. Sherlock had begun to suck around him, rubbing his tongue up and down his shaft and hollowing his cheeks. The hand wrapped around the base was squeezing and stroking lazily, driving John crazy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d got laid, and knowing that _Sherlock_ was the one currently working over his length just made him even more aroused.

“O – Oh... Oh God, yes...” John hissed, opened his eyes halfway to look down at the detective and instantly his erection gave an almighty throb at the sight. Sherlock was still gazing up at him with crystal clear eyes, his perfectly arched lips stretched around his shaft. The hand still on his thigh moved then, Sherlock locking John’s gaze to his as he moved his hand to his balls and cupped them gently, rolling them around his palm. 

Sherlock pulled back slightly to focus all his attention on the tip then, his hand moving away from John’s scrotum to reach into the pocket of his robe. John supposed he should have been surprised when the detective produced a tube of lube, but given the circumstances he only moaned at the promise it held.

Sherlock pulled off John’s cock completely then, unscrewing the cap of the lube and squeezing a decent amount onto his fingers. “Are you alright if we do this John?” He asked softly, about as compassionate as he ever got, and John nodded without even needing to think.

“Yes...” He groaned, hissing in pleasure when Sherlock grinned and then moved to swallow his erection back into his mouth. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be taken over by the pleasure then, becoming oblivious to everything other than Sherlock’s hot mouth over his length. After a moment two slickened fingers traced a path down his perineum to rub gently against his anus, circling the sphincter and coaxing his body into relaxing.

“I’ve never done this before...” John warned, his voice embarrassingly husky and he felt Sherlock nod ever so slightly, causing the head of his cock to bump against the roof of his mouth. Pre cum began to dribble from the tip and Sherlock was quick to slick his tongue against the slit and gather it up, sending bolts of pleasure straight through John’s groin. It helped to distract from the fingers pressing against his ass, though he forced himself to relax. He’d had a prostate examination before, when he’d joined the army, and honestly it hadn’t been as painful as the other men made out. It hadn’t been pleasant... but it hadn’t been impossible to withstand either.

Sherlock seemed to understand that being a doctor John was capable of not panicking and tensing, and so he didn’t bother with the one customary finger and instead went straight for two. John gasped and shuddered violently, but managed to keep his muscles as relaxed as possible as the digits slid ever so slowly inside him. He knew it wasn’t inexperience that had made Sherlock move so quickly, it was merely an understanding that John could take it and the doctor was soon sinking back against the cushions of the armchair as he wound his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.

“Jesus Sherlock... Slowly...” He groaned, his cock twitching and pulsing from pleasure as Sherlock sucked slowly around him. He had almost entirely stopped the bobbing of his head by now, keeping John’s pleasure from raising too much as he thrust the fingers inside him. It felt strange, but didn’t hurt too much, only stung a little when Sherlock began to scissor them.

Sherlock was watching John closely as he fingered him, careful to take his time and spread the lube inside him to ensure he was as prepped as possible. He didn’t want to hurt the good doctor, and he was used to detaching himself from his own sexual desires. He was barely aware of his own erection, too busy servicing the one in his mouth.

John soon grew used to the feeling of the fingers inside him and he begged Sherlock to hurry up, insisting he was ready. By the time Sherlock agreed enough to draw his fingers out and get to his feet John was a helpless tangle of pleasure and desire, gripping the arms of the chair and begging Sherlock to ‘stop being an impossible idiot and fuck me already’.

“You are so impatient John Watson.” Sherlock scolded as he slid his robe off his shoulders, John gazing at him through lust darkened eyes. He sat up a little more, already looking utterly debauched with his glistening erection, flushed cheeks and robe on but open. He was far too busy studying Sherlock to care though... He had imagined the detective many times in his fantasies, but seeing him like this in person was so much better than anything his brain could have supplied.

“You know... You haven’t even kissed me yet.” John pointed out softly, gazing with adoring eyes at Sherlock’s long, lean torso and the tenting of his pyjama pants. “Are you going to just fuck me?” He asked, almost challenged, though his grin was playful.

Sherlock looked somewhat alarmed for a moment, a flash of shame flitting across his face. “Of course, forgive me John.” He apologised quickly, abandoning his pyjama’s for a moment so that he could lean down and rest his hands near John’s on the sides of the chair. His grey blue eyes were swirling darkly now, and John felt his breath hitch in his throat as Sherlock leant close to him.

For a maddening moment John felt almost terrified he was so nervous. Getting his cock sucked seemed like nothing compared to the thought of actually kissing Sherlock and he was convinced his heart was having palpitations in his chest. But then Sherlock’s eyes were closing and so was his and their lips were touching and John’s world had shrunk until it could contain nothing but the detective.

Sherlock smiled slightly against John’s lips, seeming to sense how stunned he was so he kept the kiss slow for a long moment, giving the doctor time to catch up. When John did he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s neck and deepening the kiss eagerly. 

Sherlock sighed and even groaned ever so quietly, leaning as close to John as he could, bracing himself against the chair as he their lips sucked and slid together insistently. John’s cock was red and weeping, his desire reaching an unbearable pitch. He was all set to beg again, his hands coming down to push at Sherlock’s pyjama pants. 

“Sh – Sher... Mm... Sherlock... Please, God...”

“Oh... I always knew you were a submissive man in the bedroom.” Sherlock groaned, a line that usually would have earned him a punch to the face but John was too aroused to care. He simply nodded wordlessly and moaned his delight as Sherlock stepped out of his pyjama’s and stood naked before him.

“Please Sherlock...” John sighed, laying his hands on Sherlock’s hips just to feel over his skin for a moment. “Please, I want you so bad.”

“I know...” Sherlock sighed, his voice not smug but amazed and John smiled as he kissed him again. Their mouths were even more determined now, teeth clicking and tongues thrashing as Sherlock practically devoured John’s lips. He was rubbing lube over his erection and John was shivering with the anticipation, as if his whole body had been charged with electricity. There was a tight tension in his groin and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

“Are you ready?” Sherlock asked huskily as he began to nudge the tip of his cock against John’s hole. The doctor’s eyes flew open and he gripped tight to Sherlock’s shoulders, gazing at him nervously.

“Wait! No condom?” He breathed, Sherlock frowning in confusion.

“Would you prefer one?” He asked softly, hesitating. “I’m clean. Aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” John scoffed, biting his lip. He didn’t want to say he didn’t believe Sherlock, because he did, but he was a doctor. He didn’t run risks like this. “But I just... I mean, we should prove it shouldn’t we? I mean... Get tested and...” He blushed, afraid he was insulting Sherlock but to his surprise the detective simply nodded and moved away.

“You’re right.” He agreed, John’s head spinning at the surprise of Sherlock actually agreeing with him. He felt a small swell of relief as Sherlock grabbed a small foil packet from his robe, making John blush.

“You knew I’d ask?” He whispered, Sherlock smiling almost shyly at him as he quickly opened the packet and rolled the condom down his length before smearing lube over it.

“Of course. You’re a doctor.” He grinned, John rolling his eyes fondly.

“So why even try without it?”

“You can’t blame a man for trying.” Sherlock’s grin was playful and John gawped at him for a moment. It seemed so unlike Sherlock, but he didn’t have time to think on it before the detective was pressing against his ass again. He felt his heart skip a beat and then pick up faster and a blush spread to his cheeks. He gripped his shoulders again and sank back against the back of the chair, forcing himself to relax as Sherlock pushed ever so slowly into him.

“If it... ah... If it hurts... Tell me...” Sherlock groaned through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into John’s hips as he held him steady. John nodded but kept his mouth firmly shut, gazing at Sherlock’s gorgeous face to get through the dull ache that was caused by his cock sliding past his sphincter and inside him.

The slide was long and slow, painful for both of them, but not enough to make them stop. It wasn’t a burning, tearing pain, so John knew Sherlock had prepped him well; but it was still uncomfortable and he shifted awkwardly as Sherlock pushed into him, it seeming to take forever before he felt his balls nudge against his ass cheeks.

“O – Oh... Fuck, it’s in?” He groaned, Sherlock nodding breathlessly. “Just... Just give me a second.” Sherlock nodded again, his breathing heavy.

“Alright...” John finally breathed, Sherlock meeting him another long, wanton kiss as he began to draw his hips back and then push back in. Both men gasped quietly at the sensation, and after just a minute of slow, careful thrusting John had relaxed enough for Sherlock to start putting some power into his thrusts.

“Oh... Oh yes...” John groaned, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s back and digging his nails lightly into his pale skin as the detective began to thrust faster into him, though he kept gentle. He felt utterly full and the stretch of his ass around Sherlock’s cock was beginning to feel so good he couldn’t keep still. He moaned loudly and gasped out words of encouragement, pushing his hips down to meet each thrust and throwing his head back in delight.

Sherlock was watching John closely as he moved, taking in every detail and delighting in them. He kissed him hungrily after a while before trailing his lips down his neck to kiss and lick gently over the scar on John’s shoulder. He was tight and hot around his cock, and Sherlock was beyond himself with pleasure. It had been years since he’d last done this, and he couldn’t think of anyone he’d wanted to do this with more.

“John... Unn... T – Tell me what I did to you in your dream?” He moaned huskily as he thrust into him, hands gripping his hips to keep him in the chair as he fucked him. His voice was impossibly deeper in his arousal and John’s head swam at the sound of it. God, he could drown in that voice.

“I... W – Which one?” He whimpered, so beyond himself in pleasure he couldn’t think straight.

“L – Last night... The one... Oooh... The one you had last night.” Sherlock groaned, needing to know what had made it so different to all the others. Of course he couldn’t know what John dreamt of exactly, and the desire to find out was making his skin crawl. 

“I... You... Fuck...” John groaned, his nails scratching lightly down Sherlock’s back as he hooked his legs around his hips, crossing his ankles. Sherlock was deep inside him, thrusting fast and every now and then brushing over that spot inside him that made him cry out. “You w – were a vampire... And... Oh fuck, Sherlock! Oh... You... You were f – feeding from me...” John was vaguely aware over how strange that sounded, but he simply couldn’t explain at that moment.

“Oh... God...” Sherlock tipped his head back for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and just thinking that over for a second. He knew that John didn’t have a vampire fetish, and he could understand the dream was probably caused by the film they had watched before bed. However, the fact remained John had cum from the dream alone that morning and so Sherlock simply did the first thing he assumed must have been the reason. John had a thing for something involved in the dream... assuming vampires in general didn’t do it for him that left two obvious choices. Blood and biting.

John was moaning freely now, his orgasm building steadily as Sherlock thrust into him. He could feel the detective’s cock twitching and throbbing inside him and knew that Sherlock was close too. He had leant down and had started to kiss over John’s neck, but nothing could have prepared John for what Sherlock did next.

Sherlock bit him.

_Hard._

“Ow!” John yelped, his voice embarrassingly high pitched as his body jolted, his muscles clenching tight around Sherlock’s cock as his orgasm suddenly gripped him without warning. John gasped Sherlock’s name and came hard against his chest and stomach, Sherlock still biting against his neck until it ached.

“Sh – Sherlock... Ow... Sherlock...” He groaned, panting as Sherlock continued to thrust inside him. The pulsing of John’s muscles around his erection helped bring Sherlock closer, and soon he too was moaning as he rode through his own orgasm. He leant back then, arching slightly and panting as he shuddered through his release, holding John steady until long after he had stopped moving.

For a long moment both men merely worked on getting their breath back, John slumped bonelessly into the chair. He hissed and groaned quietly when Sherlock pulled out of him, leaving to throw the condom in the bin before he returned to John and kissed him ever so gently.

“You... Mm... You bit me, you wanker.” John sighed, gingerly rubbing his fingers over the bruising skin on his neck. Sherlock hadn’t made him bleed, but he could feel the indentations where his teeth had been.

“Yes, and you loved it.” Sherlock responded. His voice wasn’t playful like it should have been, and John blushed as he realised Sherlock had bitten him for a reason. 

“You... Was that an experiment?” He groaned, not even bothered to try and fight as Sherlock hoisted him up with surprising ease and then sat in the chair himself, John resting in his lap.

“No... It was more of a... hope, that I might discover what turned you on most.” Sherlock responded innocently, his chest rising and falling rapidly still and John could feel his heart was racing. He smiled lazily and dared to cuddle against Sherlock’s chest. The detective tensed at first, but then slowly relaxed, one arm draped over John’s waist.

“Well... Next time maybe don’t bite so hard.” John suggested quietly, closing his eyes and basking in his post orgasmic bliss.

“Next time?” Sherlock asked softly, John blushing and growing tense, eyes opening again.

“I... I’m sorry I... Just assumed I...”

“Yes. Next time I’ll be more delicate.” Sherlock mused, John looking at him with red cheeks. Sherlock met his gaze with a soft smirk, leaning down to peck his lips. “And next time we will have to get tested before hand, so I can feel all of you.” He purred, John gasping softly and managing to squeak out an indignant ‘Sherlock!’ before he was surrendering to another heart stopping kiss.


End file.
